


Pairidaêza

by Iseki



Category: Final Fantasy XIII-2
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mild Romantic Feelings, Nakama, Saving the World, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iseki/pseuds/Iseki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>END GAME SPOILERS, Post-FFXIII-2. Hope and Noel remain, remembering times that exist, times that no longer do, and the Farron's that left them behind. Their new battle is one of survival and desperation, but perhaps there is still some form of magic on their side. Mild pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Past

 

_ANOTHER COCOON_

* * *

**Academia 500AF...**

Can it even be considered as such? The time when it became such no longer exists. The magnificent walkways and neon lights no longer mark it. The Academy tower, the bustling shopping district, the forgotten alleys hidden in the dark; all that remains to remember this place is the people who stand here.

**New Valhalla 1ASF**

_After the Second Fall._

Time is a human concept. If we lose track of it, it remains lost forever. There is no longer the promise of day and night to follow. No stars to chase in their everlasting cycles. The nebulae here ripple upon the lake's mirror; fixed and unchanging. At once appearing quite beautiful now widely acknowledged as a curse. New Valhalla's tides move not by the moon nor the atmospheric pressures and storms; there is only infinity.

The human race is not easily destroyed. Even in a place where no time, life or even death exists there are factions of hope. Survivors scattered from the ages have banded together and continued. While the perpetual darkness chokes the land and the creatures of Chaos materialize without warning there are those that refuse to submit.

There are those that believe in Light.

We are those survivors.

* * *

"Director!"

"Here's another one."

Yellow-suited and silver-haired, the man in question turned with an audible sigh. "Please, you don't need to call me that anymore. We're all equals here."

"Excuse me..." the other man bowed shortly, in the same movement relinquishing the shoulder hold of his heavy burden. The helmet over his head hid nearly every feature and distorted his voice, but the communicator strip across his bicep labelled him as Sgt. Xyend.

"Thank you Sergeant."

"Ah, the Director can't even follow his own advice." A new voice interrupted; warm and rich but fatigued around the vowels, it could only belong to one friend.

"Sazh,"

"This one is just the same." He concluded, nodding desolately towards the Xyend's package.

"Hope," he began, dismissing the formalities, "give this up."

The frayed edges of black material covered the bundle and shadowed the rest; it was far too small. Hope didn't move to uncover it.

"I can't, Sazh."

Bhunivelze hung mysteriously in the sky. While the elevator continued to run, power shortages to the cities were commonplace. Hope's residence was like the others- new, a blank canvas; unfurnished and without warmth. There hadn't been a chance to fill it with his worldly belongings. While he spent most of his waking hours on the surface of Valhalla seeking other survivors and lost technologies this place welcomed him home with an eerie glow.

In the second bedroom the door would no longer close for vast crystalline shafts. They seemed to grow daily, like little bursts of flower petals stretching and reaching for a sun that was no longer there. Radiating an inner light that extinguished the need for lamps Vanille and Fang continued to rest here without purpose.

Hope snapped and clicked as a variety of belts and pouches were released from his waist and clattered upon the countertop. Boots followed with a grimace, calluses and blisters stinging sharply as they were removed. Time might have been destroyed but regular old wear and tear never would; his usually neat appearance was becoming shabby.

He and Sazh had parted ways after those few short words. His home was only a block away with two others. Dahj was kept under constant eye. Whether this was due to Sazh's over protectiveness or just simple experience no longer seemed to matter. Until the new world stabilized there were too many risks for a child.

The black shroud over Xyend's package flashed in his mind.

"Noel," he called to the shadows, if only hoping for a distraction.

The reply extended from the once opulent balcony, "I'm here."

Lamps were lit and the two men sat at the counter near Hope's littered satchel. Supplies were certainly scarce but these days people seemed scarcer and they allowed themselves the comfort of a small bottle of spirits. Today there were two glasses worth left. Neither moved to clink his drink, nor did they express the small disturbance that this was the end of their weekly routine. After this everything would inevitably change.

"Any more luck?" The hunter said. It was a dismal attempt at conversation but Hope couldn't fault him. The fact that he offered his voice at all was a comfort.

"None," Hope confessed. Centuries of work, countless achievements in paradoxal sciences, a lifetime and more wealth of knowledge and cooperation for the betterment of humankind, and Hope couldn't bring himself to lie even for the sake of kindness. Noel deserved the truth, and was probably one of few who could fully shoulder its burden.

"Hm," he considered all too lightly, boyish charm creeping between his words. "I guessed as much."

The silence dropped and they swallowed at the burning liquor in turns. Never truly enjoying the taste of straight alcohol Hope tried not to make a face.

"Serendipity," Noel interrupted his thoughts. Hope turned his gaze on him quizzically.

"I really hated the place." He laughed. "Gaudy, garish, and loud. How people continued to spend their days there without any end in sight... Well the reason escaped me."

Hope looked back at his drink; the amber liquid reflecting his slow but honest smile.

"I wasn't any good at the games. Chocobo racing in such a tiny indoor arena made me feel queasy. The attendants in cat-suits made me feel like a piece of meat."

Hope joined his shallow laughter with a small titter of his own. Noel's distant and exclusive experience with society was something that could intrigue him. His natural reaction to curiosity was to study and learn it, but even time-travel hadn't provided enough opportunity to truly understand this boy: the last of humanity.

"We were always dropping by, playing a stint or two on the slots, claiming our winnings, or meeting with the mystic there, that I never really thought that any one time would be the last...

But Serah said it reminded her of Cocoon." He breathed heavily, fingers that were continuously worrying his hair or the bunched muscles in the back of his neck lie still against his glass. "And now I wish I had paid a little more attention."

"Serah..." he whispered her name with reverence. Noel's electric blue eyes were dark behind heavy lashes.

"That seems about right," Hope interjected at length, clenching his teeth as another sip of liquor hit the back of his throat. "Sounds a lot like Nautilus." When Noel said nothing he wondered whether he should continue or not, but when he turned that electric gaze was fixed on him with fervour. Hope sputtered momentarily.

"I'd only been there once but it wasn't the type of place you could easily forget. A lot of lights, a lot of people, a rainbow of colours stretching across pillars and archways; everything was smooth marble and lit up by power currents that could lead you straight to the heart of the Fal'cie."

The memories, like little time bombs that had been waiting for this day, exploded in his mind's eye. He was 14 years old again and surrounded by artificial wonder.

"By day it was lush and green and by night the sky came alive with the hologram parade."

Despite their obvious differences in culture Noel didn't ask any further questions. The vision Hope had painted became a happy little oasis amongst the other landscapes he had known. The hologram parade, whatever that might have meant to the people of that age, became a dance of colour and light without form that swirled and bathed the city in liveliness. At the centre of it all a figure stood with hands clasped behind her back and a delicate smile certain to be playing on her lips.

"Yeah, sounds just the same." He lied, still finding Serendipity exhaustingly obnoxious. A smirk curled beyond permission. The glow from the crystal shrine in the second bedroom beat against their backs.

The silence waged war on his ears; the silence reminded him of all the times he had to carry on alone. And so, eager to carry on with this vein of conversation Hope forged ahead.

"All the times and all the places you've seen... Which was your favourite?"

It seemed an optimistic question, and with it Noel's eyebrows knit and formed a crease. So many worlds and times in some state of disarray- the paradox effect, the predetermined decline of the Pulse's vitality, enemies and forces that shouldn't have been. He searched for something that stood out, something beautiful and good. The answer supplied itself.

"Sunleth Waterscape."

"Ah. I've been there." Hope replied excitedly, getting lost in his own recollection of the location. "But when?" he reminded them both.

"300AF" Noel wondered if the irony showed on his face. If there had the young director had not caught it.

Hope nodded serenely, trying to remember if it had ever been featured in the oracle drive prophecies he'd studied. It was difficult to age it beyond those faraway years when he was just a boy and companioned with the other l'cie. Even in the face of their desperate trials and unclear Focus there were gentle moments of togetherness that kept them all sane. Wandering Pulse's vast wilderness had contained many such moments. But here were the memories that both carried and bound him: of Vanille and Fang, of Sazh, of his enemy Snow turned valued friend.

Of Lightning.

At Sunleth Waterscape she had stood out starkly amongst the wildflower. Well muscled yet slender, her skin was pale in the heavy sunshine. Her strawberry hair and red cloak had whispered in the errant breeze like bright daubs of paint on a landscape that had never known the likes of such shades.

It was probably there that his younger self graduated from admiration to something more.

"Is it strange for me to ask why?"

Noel studied him then, seeming to peak out from the grips of misery that had held him since that day. Perhaps the walls he had built over seasons of isolation had simply crumbled, or perhaps it was due to the fact that Hope had been there at the very end and seen everything he wanted to hide from, but more than that he sensed that there was a shared camaraderie formed through their loss. But at the last minute his courage failed him.

"It was just so alive; a Hunter's paradise."

Hope's lips twisted and straightened again as he watched him.

"It  _was_  more than that," Noel conceded to the unspoken question. "At Sunleth… we didn't know about Etro's blessing yet. At Sunleth,  _Serah_  was alive and well and we didn't know enough to…to…" He trailed off, fists clenching and unclenching futilely. It was a short-lived happiness to fight alongside Snow but it was happiness nonetheless. It was those plains of vast greenery and blissful ignorance that haunted him in dreams. If they had only stopped there…

"Noel," Hope said simply, his voice even and firm. "You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened."

The hunter emptied his glass, ignoring him. "The only thing that seems to bloom around here is that damn crystal."

"Serah made her choice."

"But I could've stopped her!" Without restraint he stood rigidly. His dual-blades were far from his side and he was itching to carry them again. Through the unnamed streets of Bhunivelze, through the true Valhalla, straight to Lightning herself to demand to know why she'd allowed them to travel this path.

"There's still hope…" The man with the same namesake continued.

"I'd like to believe you," He threw up his arms, gesturing weakly to the unlit residence that had been built for two. "But it looks pretty hopeless don't you think?"

The glow of the sleeping Pulse l'cie danced over Noel's back giving him a hazy blue outline. Hope hesitated. In his spanning twenty five years he'd learned to live whether his purpose was in sight or not. When a task was impossible there was nothing left but faith. Without resolve the man will fall.

"It does." He agreed. "But I refuse to lie down and die without a fight. There are too many people I still want to save."

With that Noel slumped heavily back into his seat. "But how?"

Now it was Hope's turn to smile, completely devoid of irony or falseness.

"We look for Light."

* * *

In Timeless Valhalla there is a crystal throne. Atop it sits a warrior who no longer has the strength to fight. She sleeps restlessly, haunted by the rules of logic that have been erased and the faces of people she knows she should remember. Etro's hand had lead her here and here she would stay. In her body the true timeline existed still, but was sleeping all the same. She was the last, the final hope, and there was is no door to her prison that opened without sacrifice.

But in a different place, in a different throne there was another. Resting between the bosom of the two, encased in crystal blossoms that continued to grow. Etro's blessing had lifted the price of her soul but the body remained still; alive in the crystal as she had been on the last day she woke. She was guarded tirelessly, even when all hope seemed lost.

And once a soul is lost

a gate must open.

* * *

**FINIS**


	2. Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell from the ending of the first chapter this was originally a oneshot that I decided to expand upon. I apologize for the slight clumsiness that comes in connecting the two chapters together.
> 
> This is pre-affectionate-message for both Serah and Noel.

_ANOTHER THRONE_

* * *

**New Valhalla 1ASF**

Hope looked upon the crystalline masks of Vanille and Fang with a mixture of longing and gratitude. The project to remove them from the heart of the pillar had been a triumph; the stability was weakened but it held and they were removed separately without much trial. On Vanille's round and youthful cheek a white crystal flower had bloomed only recently, following the example of the rest of growth that had succeeded in filling the room.

It was strange and yet it was not. To study their ageless faces; they'd already kept up this appearance for 700 years when he'd met them, and it'd been another 500 since, to imagine time pulling at their smiles or weighing their shoulders wasn't something that came easily. Even as he watched the very things mark their beginning in his own reflection.

Cocoon was dead, a broken corpse on Gran Pulse's vast shores, and still they would not wake. It was only thanks to Noel's information that Hope could finally understand. The magnitude of the situation was not lost on him; one thing mattered more to them both. Without the Goddess Etro, there was no waking from the stasis. Eternal youth- the Fal c'ie's gift and curse, was not to be undone by human hands.

"I'm sorry," He apologized first, his voice awkward and small from disuse and sounding very young. "You'll have to wait just a little bit longer."

The crystal was silent; a mere sparkle instead of sound. Outside the hallowed space there was a clang of metal and bone piercing enough to reach them. Bhunivelze quaked ominously as a battle cry ripped skyward followed shortly by a volley of gunfire. The familiar sounds shouldn't have riled him but his palms fell nervously to the belt at his hip and prickled until he could soothe the urge to touch the weapon there.

Vanille and Fang's hands were clasped, but it had altered to how they had been in the pillar; a faint touch of finger pads as though simply re-establishing contact. They no longer appeared to swirl as perfect opposites in a fleeting yet eternal twist of fate, now they rested atop the newborn crystal bouquets in symmetry.

"We all have important jobs to do," he reassured himself. "But I suppose you already knew that."

Vanille's thin neck bent every so softly towards a third set of delicately sloping shoulders. A long and twisting curl of glass and rainbow fell gently past a swell of breasts and a fluffy outlandish creature that continued to sleep snugly in her arms even now; a different sort of crystal to the rest, but locked in perpetual silence nevertheless.

"Right Serah?"

Hope straightened from where he kneeled, the tie and collar of his suit settling back into place faultlessly, though maintaining a few uncharacteristic creases. The noise of blade and bullet was getting closer. With a flick of his wrist the pocket at his hip was open and the boomerang expanded. Crystal-light glinted off its chipped and worried edge.

Director no more, it was time to make his stand.

* * *

_Serah..._

_Yes. I must be dreaming._

_Because I'm already dead._

_It's strange. This doesn't feel like death. It's...nostalgic somehow._

_Serah?_

_But it's also painful._

_Lightning! Snow?_

_Where are you?...Noel?_

* * *

Xyend went spinning; a blur of black uniform and spattered red masking his smooth angular features. There was no time to reach him where he fell. The beasts born of Chaos flood against them in thick waves, leaving the battle to the swift and the enduring; there was little opportunity for healers.

As Hope sent his weapon high Noel defended instinctively, twisting his blades through the bodies that tore towards his momentarily unarmed partner, ripping clear of hide, metal and bone all the same. In a twisting circle, much like a dance, blood coursed through taught muscle and steel sang. The moment the circle was complete the ex-Director swung wide; a product of his own devising sailing up in time with the boomerang's return.

White light flashed, the reverberation tore open the sky, and smoke exploded. Sazh, who was situated further behind alliance lines, was thrown off his feet. Too far back it seemed to enter the flow of thought transference that appeared to pass between the younger two.  _Or just too damn old,_ he thought sourly. He lost the chance to even cry out the indignity before his armpits were seized and he hit the ground running; not even enough time to connect with his descent.

"Come on, Sazh," Hope said softly over one arm, undisturbed by the continuing explosions that lit the air behind them.

"Run!" Noel urged on the other, his sandaled feet moving faster and surer than any of the other soldiers on the field.

The confusion of the blast was necessary to allow the platoon to regroup. More of Xyend's men had been swallowed by the horde, and many of those still decorated in the colours of the Academy had followed- heroically or otherwise.

Noel's long-sword arm had angry gashes riding up to the elbow; the leather bands that he kept tied there provided little real protection and had shredded easily. The remains slapped at his wrist with every stride.

In Sazh's understanding, his unique bitterness might tempt him to grin and bear it, to continue to deal retribution even as his battle-mates fell around him, but Hope had reached him first. A hunter's prowess and progressive magical capabilities made Noel the most formidable among their ranks by far. While Sazh had unlocked a variety of his old Synergist spells to cloak them, Hope Estheim, former prestigious Academy Director and a previously remarkable Ravager and Medic, had only his own dwindling arsenal to rely on. Without Noel it would be an impossible effort.

"Fall back past the stronghold." Hope ordered. The crescent of his boomerang disappeared and rang off the tusk and horn of the diminishing horde still close enough to trace their footsteps, stunning them.

"Right behind you!" Sazh called a little too loudly, finding his pistols empty.

He wouldn't say it, wouldn't even let on that he thought it; he'd fight until his dying breath so long as Dahj was safe. But as his old fingers slipped nervous and sweaty over the next clip Sazh recognized the deepening fear stretch a little bit further, a little too closely to the bone.

Noel or no Noel, it seemed an impossible task any way you sliced it.

* * *

The morning returned and the floods of chaos ebbed. The timekeepers marked a new day.

In Hope's penthouse apartment built for two, friends reunited and comrades of the militia collated intelligence. It wasn't difficult to guess the purpose behind the siege on Bhunivelze and this district in particular. The crystal drew the creatures much as it had those on Gran Pulse. Chaos preyed on anything with living will and bled out the light.

Hope found himself wishing- and not for the first time- for Snow. Wounded or outnumbered, Snow would barrel through even the darkest hour and laugh blithely on the other side. As much as he felt with unchanging certainty that Lightning was his answer, Hope could not find it in him to be Snow. There were too many important lives at stake to charge in without thinking. Ironically, it was Serah who taught him better.

Noel had his freshly bandaged arm draped across his lap where his blade lay in waiting; always prepared, even while mending. Hope deigned to chew his lip when he saw it. Sazh too looked weary and on edge, even as Dahj spoke quietly to the chick and clattered his toys intermittently in the next room. The space was permeated with question and there was only one person who could field it. The dread that he might not be fit to do so remained unspoken.

"We'll need to split up," he began carefully. "We can't leave the people and our families unprotected."

Noel shot straight without preamble, "So who goes and who stays?"

It was the subject that they feared the most. It wasn't safe to stay but it was safer; at worst desperate moments could be lived out in the arms of loved ones tucked away in their would-be new homes. Set out and prepare to be gunned down like dogs or wait in their safe holds like cages. For the weaker willed neither felt like much of an option. The hush of concern rose amongst the men.

Hope had already pre-empted the very sentiment.

"I will go."

Noel, who had been wading through the thick of his pain for nearly a month, had the maturity to be dismayed. "Just you?"

"Sazh," Hope identified, allowing the subject to linger. "You need to look after Dahj. We don't want to replicate the past." The older man softened. While the charge was issued like a reprimand it just barely glossed over the true implications: Hope was setting him free.

"Wha-Hope," Noel interjected, only to be brushed aside again.

"Xyend's division will remain here. Scout activities should be minimized although the final decision belongs to you." The room heaved a sigh of relief, even as some of the soldiers watched him anxiously.

"If the world was in any other state now would be the time I might offer you a way out... but I think we all understand there isn't any chance of that at present. Noel will lead you on the field."

"Wait a second!" the hunter snarled.

"Noel," Hope tried his most soothing voice; the same one that he used to unwittingly commit comforting lies when they needed them most. It was cruel to think, but Lightning had seen everything, had known all along. Yet she was unable to come to him, to prevent him from cheering them down a doomed path. It was useless to continue guessing at her intentions. His gloved hand found his comrade's shoulder and grasped it firmly. No more lies.

"Things like the past, the present, and the future... they don't hold any meaning here. Even our precious memories...Everything we've spent our years working towards now results in nothing."

Noel swallowed roughly in his throat; the Adam's apple rising and falling dramatically like a stone. The placid blue lakes of his eyes were wild. Sazh grew tense like he was suddenly caught in that storm, shooting Hope a look that lasted mere seconds but its meaning sank like a bullet.

_What're you doing: You'll kill him!_

Hope smiled apologetically, "Even so, for the people that are lost, for the people still here: we'll make our own reality."

Noel and Sazh, suddenly appearing boneless were staggered. While the latter was giving a hasty show of collecting his jaw from the floor the former burst out laughing. It was cold and hollow in stark comparison to their brighter days when there was time and sanction for merriment. It was even hysterical, but all the same when he was finished and wiping tears from his eyes he returned the familiar gesture on Hope's shoulder with a squeeze.

"Now you're talking."

* * *

Noel was uncertain.

Hope was a man of his word- honest to a fault- there was no ulterior motive, no stink of false information. There was never any doubt that he meant every expression the moment it touched his features. But older darker ghosts still haunted him. Solitude and loneliness followed in his shadow and threatened to devour him. His reservations toward the separation only made them stronger.

And wasn't Hope one of Serah's beloved people? She would never allow this. It was his responsibility to do as she no longer could without a complaint... wasn't it? He wavered in the doorway of her crystal paradise.

Still and beautiful she dully reflected the shine that pulsed from her throne. Her eyelashes were fanned flawlessly against her cheekbones in a mockery of peacefulness. His heart trembled as he approached. The other two crystalline women, Fang and Vanille, were blue glass in comparison to Serah. He reached out and ran his touch over the cool marble of her face. For a moment there he almost expected...tears? His hand fell away with a sigh.

It'd been him who'd brought her here. The way the other two women appeared to twist and entwine under her weight until she was perfectly contained seemed momentous. He had rushed to Hope, to sanity, a friend to tell him he hadn't imagined it all in the darkness, wanting something new to cling to.

His memory played tricks again, he couldn't recall why he had moved her when the nature of this war demanded she should be buried and forgotten with the rest of their dead. The crystal flowers seemed a fitting memorial. Or had he been drawn to it? A night spent within the light of the crystal had changed her. She was no longer of silent flesh and blood but now a sort of radiant stone. Her clothes were a faded presence, he noted without embarrassment. While they still covered her modesty her shape was no longer defined by them. Instead rolling orange light like embers lit from the inside licked along the edges; exposing toes and the soft muscle of her belly.

At the time Hope had wondered aloud whether it had been Lightning's doing, but without a shred of evidence to dictate such he had quickly refused the idea. His feelings on the matter remained unsaid but it was easy for the hunter to guess: there was no reason for magic to be cast over someone who was already lost.

Noel wasn't as convinced. He had met the new Lightning many times and she was far from blameless; she was no longer a mortal being. Her existence had become something infinite and ageless. Just as Serah protected her precious people at the risk of herself he sensed the same fire in Lightning, if not stronger. This was a woman who loved strongly and housed enough power to rival Caius. Was it so unlikely that she might be bending the rules for her sister?

Now the crystal had become pillars. Great creeping vines that wound to the ceiling and dropped like stalagmites back to the floor, all sporting their own individual clusters of the ghostly white blossoms. The two l'cie continued to rest, deeper now inside thick pearly rock.

He wanted to believe that this change, this preservation, was more than a happy coincidence.

Just as Hope had reassured him before, with this small thing - _just this_ \- perhaps there really was something more left to fight for. A reason to seek out Light.

Night fell absolutely and the glow from Serah's tomb left him none the wiser.

* * *

The world was dark. When she'd entered this place it had been in the company of strength and warmth she'd known very well. But now there was nothing, only hours of silence and solemnity on end. She sensed the warmth was very far away now.

_Wake up._

Curious. She was awake but there wasn't any meaning to it. The threads of her will had slipped too far to even lift her small finger. To define the nostalgia she felt here was terrifying, yet she couldn't remember why.

_Serah._

The voice became stern.

The voice was like the warmth; something she'd known in another life. She cried out as the razors of its concern probed deeper. Though the dark quiet here was terrible that concern was more frightening, she scrambled away like a feral creature. Deeper, darker, deeper...

She longed only to hide.

Plagued by the familiar things she could never hold again.

* * *

The last of Hope's supplies clicked into place within the extra belts of pockets slung across his hips. Sazh had gone to retrieve Dahj and Noel continued to hesitate at his side; picking through drawers and boxes, pulling odd bits of old weaponry- excavated artefacts Hope had studied for a time, dusty with memory- and enquiring to their worth on his trek. Hope merely shook his head, his hair floating with the movement, and the item would drop back into obscurity.

"Noel," he started, unable to bury the edge of admonishment in his tone.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you aren't." Hope frowned.

"Yes. I am. It's what she he broke off, the strength in this voice paling"It's what Serah would've wanted."

Hope blinked, startled, the seriousness of the other's expression reminded him of himself. Just a young boy offering hesitant insight to a band of adults; he was always being protected. But this was his interpreted result, his impossible struggle; he had to take responsibility for their efforts up until now.

"If you're coming with me who will protect Serah?"

The room dimmed, the light of the crystal waning. Noel gave pause.

"But Serah is..."

_Don't say it._

"With Vanille and Fang right now and they need you here."

That cerulean gaze was intense in its search for answers.

"And Lightning?"

His cherished Bhunivelze rattled distantly, tremors running through in its place in the sky. In New Valhalla science and mythology became one and the same. There was no goddess here but unexplainable circumstances still held sway. Hope fought a constant battle with his sense of realism built alongside his extensive knowledge of technology and a mysterious intuition. He couldn't deny that he'd considered it as well. Maybe it'd even been him to offer the suggestion to Noel once.

There were still too many indefinite factors.

"I suppose I'll find out."

Even as the answer failed to deliver any revelation, Noel seemed to accept it. He nodded jerkily and crossed his well-muscled forearms over his chest. "You'll take five others with you."

"Huh?" Hope bleated awkwardly. He wasn't used to the difference in their ages being quite so ambiguous.

"It's nowhere near as good as just one of me, but I guess we'll just have to accept that." He laughed. Some peace seemed to have returned to the way he held himself, the way his tones lifted and his eyes reflected clear. While Hope had always felt some guilt for pushing his own somewhat unjustifiable ambitions onto Noel now he drank from that unguarded confidence. His intuition blazed, indomitable once more.

He would find Lightning. He would bring her home. And Serah...perhaps there really was something more he could do for her.

"Thank you, Noel." He said. Meaning every syllable.

* * *

_I_ _ **am**_ _dead,_ she thought. There was no other reason for this darkness. Heaven and the afterlife didn't exist, she was merely lost.

Serah. Was that her name?

_We haven't got time for this._

The voice had found her again. This time there was no hiding; it pulled her like a limp puppet on strings into a brightness that exploded behind her closed eyelids. She yelped helplessly as it tugged.

A milder more buoyant sound soothed her. It was as if her head had finally broken water. The waves rippled around her shoulders and the air was clear. Fear forgotten, she tread on thin muscular legs, held a hand out in front of her and counted all the fingers. Smooth, young, manicured fingers. With these hands she touched her face, finding soft cheek and fine brow, generous lashes, and a small pert nose.

_**Don't lose yourself, Serah!** _

The second gentler expletive was Vanille. Her heart plummeted as she understood; the last place Vanille had reached her was through her dream. She was still in stasis. And Serah must be dreaming again.

_Did we fail?_  She floundered weakly, eyes darting up to find the sky blank and starless.  _Noel?_

"He's not here." A figure materialized ahead of her causing the light to pulsate anew. "There's no one here."

"Lightning!" she cried; it was the voice. She looked wane and tired, no doubt from their continued chase, and Serah hadn't even noticed it. She ran, tears threatening to overwhelm her, and tripped into her sister's embrace. Her embrace was cold and sharp, still adorned with the heavy armour that marked her as Etro's Knight, but her gloved hands rested tight against her shoulder-blades. Here, Serah realized that the terrible dark loneliness she wanted to forget was finally over and a sob broke free.

_I'm sorry._  The voice said; not from her sister's lips but from the atmosphere around them. The very air seemed to wrinkle with broke away awkwardly.

"It's really you... right Claire?"

In reply Lightning smiled, "Yeah, it's me."

Serah breathed another sigh of relief, softer this time, she had grown too accustomed to deceptions and false faces. Lightning really was here, Snow could finally come home. Hope and Sazh could rest, and Noel-

"But Serah, you have to remember..."

"...What?"

_I'm sorry_ , the air crackled again.

All at once Serah felt the space around her brain contract. Electricity coursed through her veins and ignited a reel of images, each impulse stroking a memory like an old friend. The timeline came alive within the confines of her mind. At last when she reached the end, that final vision, her breathing stilled. A tear slipped free of her wide-eyed gaze and her knees buckled.

Lightning was beside her, a comforting hand on her back while she wrestled with the urge to heave.

"This is Valhalla." She whispered solemnly. "And you are..."

_And I really am..._

Her sister's apology echoed through the waves. The light growing brighter until vast shores were unearthed, mottled and broken buildings uncovered.  _Never enough, never enough_ , the voice lamented and with it the Goddess's Knight did not hide her shame.

Lightning knew that Serah would do anything if she only asked. They were sisters, blood and circumstance bound them together the moment they were left alone. There was no limitation to their devotion. But as Lightning had watched and studied the timeline's every possibility, every slim measure of chance and change, she could still not quell her remorse. She needed Serah. Serah, the one person she vowed always to safeguard.

It was a cruel decision, made so by the ruthlessness of fate, but Lightning felt every part responsible to be the one to make it.

"Please..." Serah spoke again, recovering slowly, "don't apologize."

Her smile was a radiant twin to Lightning's own and so much more easily given.

"The future I saw...

Was worth protecting."

* * *

**FINAS**

 


	3. Future?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this has taken so long. There are a multitude of reasons for my stalling including the plot. Thankfully in my stalling I was approached by the wonderful BlueFeather and from that point onward my job got a lot easier. Thank you for your insight, your attention to detail, and your willingness to exchange lengthy messages with me. It was very encouraging and altogether inspiring! For the same reasons, I have not been able to complete this in three chapters, and so I promise you a fourth and final episode to follow shortly. 
> 
> Concerning the chapters ahead: due to my fondness for ambiguous information, I’ve had to bend some of the rules to match my will. I do not assume that any of the following is entirely loyal to the canon provided, but that’s sort of the whole point.
> 
> Still, I hope you enjoy the ride, and think longingly of what truths Lightning Returns might offer us in the near future…

 

 

_ANOTHER GODDESS_

* * *

  **New Valhalla 2ASF**

 

_Inside Valhalla’s walls the boy director walks. In a place where past and future meet as one, the chaos of his heart stirs its ghosts._

_Now, he comes._

* * *

Outside of Bhunivelze there is only dust.

Sprawling forestland, great capitals, secret oases, houses and homes- everything was gone. As if it had never existed in the first place. The transformation of New Valhalla has wiped the slate of history clean. The existence of Bhunivelze and her people themselves became another now common impossibility. The collective history continued to live through their fragile human memories, but under the duress of constant battle and uncertainty it was only a matter of time before their numbers would decrease and that too would fail.

The irony that their success hinged so much on quick action and accurate timing when time itself no longer existed was not lost on Hope. It was easy to spend his few restful hours awake and counting, but Hope understood his limits. His accuracy would slip, his analyses would slow; he would be no good to anyone if he pushed too hard. Camping out had its dangers but they were manageable. His guard only dropping momentarily as his perimeters were laid and he slept in short bursts.

Explosives were too risky to use should they draw attention from the chaos beasts. He would be outnumbered instantly. Instead he had to rely on primitive snares and a blade to silence their howls. It was a dirty job, one which Hope took no delight in; if truth could be told he felt the stain upon him creep deeper with each draw of the knife. It wasn’t as though he was unused to battle, he’d kept a fair regime of training even when it was needless of him, but this was so much different to long-range combat. This was merciless: survival of the fittest- muscle over mind. He couldn’t help but lament how much more suited he’d been to a life of research amongst scholars.

His small party had dwindled at a camp not so far behind him. The men that Noel insisted he take with him were easily convinced in taking up their new post there with the refugees they’d found. Families frightened and torn apart- he couldn’t stand to leave them as they were now that he had seen it. It went against all principles. Now that he was alone however it meant that any progress was a struggle. What little guidance he had gleaned years ago from Lightning and gained from Noel before they’d parted was indispensable.

He cleaned his weapons dutifully _. Light_ , he thought, holding the curved base of the folded blade loosely in his palm. Back when they were l’cie the knife had seemed so huge in his hands- so heavy with the promise of revenge. He sighed bitterly at the memory. In his adult grip the knife was small but no less deadly. It had found him for a third occasion, this time through Noel, and once more it reckoned great change. That change had led him back to Lightning in the past- a mere coincidence; the numbers were insubstantial. And yet he trusted that the coincidence would hold to be true.

* * *

Noel broke free of his nightmare in a cold sweat. The light of the crystal bathed him, resonating with the harried beating of his heart, but it did not succeed in banishing the ghosts that had visited him in dreaming.

Beautiful and unchanged Yeul- just a baby when he’d first held her; little better than a toddler himself. How many more Yeul’s had there been that knew nothing of him but for _his_ Yeul’s visions? It grieved him to think of it.

And then there was Caius; mysterious Caius. Always present and yet indistinct in anything that lacked relation to the seeress. Noel hardly knew what he did with himself when he wasn’t hovering over the young Yeul like a mother hen. Back then Noel had only wanted to free Yeul of his overbearing company, as though he were symbolic of her burden, but he’d been playing right into Caius’s hands. To become a guardian and surpass him was to first trust in Caius, and that was something he would always regret.

Noel pushed his hair away from his face with both hands; a gesture that laid him bare and exposed every weakness. He only allowed for such moments here in the crystal chamber because those present to witness it would never take advantage of those that were vulnerable.

He tried to shake his dreams of the past back to where they belonged. That time was gone now; buried even further beneath the sands than his other experiences that were all but erased.

He looked to Serah, her stony expression unaffected. Mog seemed to breathe in his sleep but his fur hardly fluttered.  He smiled in their direction, feeling old encouragement swell in their presence.

“Gotta keep it together, right?”

The sound of his lone voice however cheerful felt solemn in the closed space. And then—

Noel swivelled, unsheathing his blade until it extended to its full wicked length; the dagger coming free easily into his left hand and with deadly quickness.

“Show yourself.” He growled deeply, immediately on knifepoint. Who had made it past his guards? Who had managed to disarm Hope’s cleverly designed traps? Who dared enter upon this sanctity to lay waste to what he sought only to protect? And worst of all: who had managed to avoid his senses this far in?

He edged towards the darkness with silent footfalls, but before attack became necessary the assailant stepped into the light with arms raised; weapon-less, unguarded. No, not weapon-less per se but...

Noel’s breath caught. His blades lowered.

“Whoa now, hey...” the perpetrator said lowly.

Noel blinked hard.

Was he still lost in the world of dreaming?

“Easy fella, I’m no enemy.”

Offensive completely dropped, Noel focused instead on not letting the staggering weight of his new company show. He set his jaw and sheathed his weapon mechanically.

Before him stood the one and only, fist wielding, rift jumping, action-before-talk, Snow Villiers.

* * *

Hope felt the presence of the city before he saw it. Valhalla grew in the distance in great swoops and spires against the sky. The wild architecture both thrilled and repulsed him. This was a city built on distant shores, a city of gods made by unearthly powers that no sound human mind could have conceived.

He’d once thought that the Fal’cie were amongst the most fearsome powers to exist. Even his own prototype, Adam, had become something abhorrent. Serah’s plea, which had crossed the logic of the timelines, had only narrowly managed to stop him from advancing the project. She had saved Academia from a future that would repeat the past.

And yet Hope still found it difficult to put the idea to rest entirely. He should remain diplomatic. Pulse Fal’cie lived so differently and there was so much more to Gran Pulse’s history that they had yet to understand.  Given more time and resource perhaps one day they might still achieve harmony and coexist once more, benefitting from each other as they had. With the truth at their fingertips it would be a small effort to remove any necessity of widespread and gratuitous death. The Fal’cie had the capacity to be as cruel as any human but they were sentient all the same. Peace could be kept.

Valhalla was different. In the same way a child dreads the call of thunder so did Hope dread the closing distance between him and the city. There could be no amount of understanding to produce harmony with such a place. The dark and stillness lingering in every parapet and broken staircase was of such a composition as to wipe out life entirely. They did not belong on the same plane. His beloved Bhunivelze and this undead city were like enemy castles but this was a battle that had long ago been decided. Valhalla’s presence in their world would eradicate anything it could not absorb.

As the borders of the city edged closer and his dismay grew, new thoughts of Lightning surfaced. Had she truly lived here in this place? Bowed before an empty throne? And if she had, what might have become of her humanity? Unbidden visions of C’eith and stone shook him to the core.

Dust rose, scattering his vision, and Hope shielded his eyes as he walked. His heart ached with every step.

* * *

“You don’t know how you got here?” Noel repeated edgily. It was only with great restraint that he kept himself from spitting the words back at Snow. The subject of the paradox instantly rose to his mind, begging inquiry, but he shook it away. It shouldn’t be so. The timeline was effectively destroyed and in effect so were such results. In a sense their very reality was the paradox now.

Snow nodded dismissively, seeming to come to the same conclusion. “I wasn’t allowed to travel the gates as conventionally as you did,” He rubbed the back his neck, turning away. “The memory is always pretty fuzzy if I’m honest.”

“Sounds familiar.” Noel deadpanned, leaning inside the unadorned door frame of the room. The light of the crystal flickered behind Snow’s outline.

A black-gloved hand that was heavy and huge reached out to touch the crystal that was Serah but froze mere inches away; hovering over the shape of her necklace as if caught by an invisible web. The hand became a fist that dropped to his side.

“Oh Serah, I never wanted to see you this way again.”

Silence reigned, and Noel grit his teeth. Seeing Snow again stirred his emotions into a confusing storm. His lacking details aside, something in Snow’s show of unashamed candidness left him feeling frustrated.

Snow hadn’t been there at the end of the world, when the smoke from the sky had filled their eyes and the grief was raw like an open wound. She had been little more than a still-warm doll in his arms as they wept. He hadn’t been there for her in so many years and he’d missed out on so many important battles. Now here he was the same as always; barrelling in from the fringes of any situation as if he’d never left— too little, too late.

And yet Noel knew that they all grieved, that his anger was misplaced. He could not admit to the sentiment that their sorrow was not equal when he knew so little of Snow. Any comparison was already impossible; the units of measurement too different. Serah would have taught him as much. Serah would have implored him for his sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured desolately, unable to think of anything else.

Snow shifted soundlessly as if he hadn’t heard him.

After a moment Noel decided to tread more cautiously, “You said ‘again,’ but this isn’t like the l’cie... This is different, new— fresh.” He joined Snow at the plinth and touched a crystal flower with all the carefulness of an antiques merchant in the presence of a priceless relic. “Hope thinks that this is probably their doing,” he nodded to the other women frozen in time; the two who formed her cradle.

Snow stirred from his thoughts as though he had only just noticed their company. So thick was the ice-like rock that he’d surely missed their placid features. The outstretched arms that reached across Serah were the most telltale sign and yet as the crystal continued to expand their flesh resembled little more than elaborate vines to keep Serah were she was.

“Hope,” Snow confirmed, forming the name slowly in his mouth, and Noel wondered briefly how long it had been since they last met. Snow paused to gaze at Fang and Vanille, and Serah again, searching the room and finding the discarded pile of toys that Dahj kept neat in a corner. “All back together again, huh?” He chuckled softly and without humour.

Noel didn’t dare to argue the circumstances of each individual’s imperfect attendance. “All except one.”

A fist formed again. The stressed leather of Snow’s gloves protested shrilly in the silence when that fist found the opposite palm to pound against it twice. It was a common gesture from Snow that even Noel could recognize as a sanction to act.

“Then I guess that’s why I’m here,”

“And why is that?” Noel asked, dreading the answer.

Snow smiled, resolve in his voice where there had once been bewilderment. “Serah called for a hero.”

With his suspicion fulfilled Noel hardly had the energy to appear surprised.

“There’s no way it’d be that simple,” he refused tiredly, but without any other suggestion the argument fell flat.

He sat on the arm of the modest square sofa that adorned the far side of the room and studied his feet. At that moment it seemed like every future that had ever been conceived still put him here in this room; immobile and powerless. The cushions squeaked under Snow’s additional weight. Even on a raised level the man’s impressive height still managed to match Noel’s, and his arm draped around the slump of the younger man’s shoulders.

“Hey,” he said, “Some difficult stuff’s happened here and I get that, but as I see it the time for questions is gone. We’ll fight with the hand we were dealt.”

Noel studied his feet and the crystal glittered. In his time with Hope they’d spoken of many things and Snow was no exception. Hope had been just as distrustful of Snow’s sunny ignorance, but time had found that nothing could replace it. It seemed his disappearance had left many scars.

That nauseating sense of déjà vu seemed to ebb until the room swelled with relief.

Snow, who should’ve been so much angrier- crushing fists flying ever forward in a blind rage- waited patiently. He observed the ethereal beauty of his old friends and his fallen fiancé with a quiet grief backed by an enduring confidence.

All the time that Noel had spent wrestling with his sense of responsibility, his failure to protect Serah, Yeul, or Hope, or even Caius from himself- in an instant the clarity had dawned: he had locked himself in his own idleness. Their grim reality pulled him one way, while Snow’s influence pulled him another.

“That’s completely irresponsible,” he chided plainly, and in return Snow laughed full of warmth.

 “Sometimes that’s just the way it goes.”

* * *

Valhalla’s gates had no guards. There were the usual darkened forms of the chaos beasts, dangerous and hungry, but worse than that was the impression of death. The air was heavy with it. Suffocating shadows of things that once were seemed to drift in and out of reality and unsettle the dust until the entire length of the city was trapped in the gloomy murk of neglect.

More than once Hope felt his gorge rise at the mistaken glimpse of a figure- a woman— a _mother_. He might have chased the shade if he hadn’t known better. What existed here was little better than a fractured nightmare. It would prey on any weakness. He had to keep his emotion and his memories in check.

Though the catacombs of the city were broken but dense Noel had given Hope one final parting gift: his knowledge of Valhalla. Through their travels he and Serah had stumbled upon fragments of the city numerous times and there was always one recurring location- a throne. It was hidden deep within one of the compounds, fed light from an unknown source, and held in place by enormous shafts of the ice-like crystal. Now that Caius was gone Hope couldn’t imagine there would be any other place where Light would secrete herself. In these streets devoid of life he’d take any lead he was given.

As he travelled deeper into the city the sounds of a shoreline met his ears. Before he’d even had the chance to realize it the noise of the gentle tide had pierced through the hum of the dark things that were stirring. His heart thrummed and his footsteps quickened until the elaborate stone and twisted metal of Valhalla’s empty buildings gave way to endless beach. The black sand slipped softly under his boots and the dark water lapped easily in shallow patterns barely an inch deep. When the vast cloud cover shifted and broke intermittently streaks of moonlight would hit the shore in dappled patches, until the vision almost resembled something familiar. Like the night fallen on the beaches of New Bodhum, or the distant memory of Cocoon’s artificially fed lakes. With the distant whisper of the shadows that ruled the streets and the consistent cover of darkness it was not beautiful, but it was something- something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Something bright lay spilled further on, like a handful of small colourful shells that glittered with an acute smoothness that had been perfected by the waves. His feet had begun to move again, towards the curiosity that might be swept upon these beaches, until unwittingly he stopped short.

_What are you waiting for?_

He gasped suddenly as if he’d forgotten how to breathe and shook his head. His fingers reflexively pressed against Airwing at his side and finally the shape of Lightning’s knife inside his pocket. He determined that the shells somehow, would always look best from a distance. Resolutely, he turned away from the shore and swung back into the city, where the voices of the dead rang ever clearer.

* * *

Sazh Katzroy was a family man.

It was as plain to strangers as it was to his closest friends. It was in the way he moved, always mindful of little feet, and in every crease and wrinkle; there was an equal amount of lines for worry as there were for laughter. But most of all it was apparent in the way he fought. He avoided battle when he could- a young boy didn’t deserve to see the remains of violence upon his father; dark blood and dried muck, human and monster alike. When circumstance was mean and there was no room for running he gathered his will that felt musty and tested by time. He would clasp holsters, check clips, straps upon straps of packed ammo and guns till he was armed to the teeth. Every bullet met its mark, and in older times every _spell_. Some pinged away ineffectually but there was always another to follow. Lock step, pirouette, inside turn, chassé- and _bang_! Showmanship, some might say; necessary rhythm he argued.

Each pull of the trigger was a safeguard for those he loved. Sazh loved deeply and with no remorse.

Hope had charged him with the safety of Dahj and the metropolis he lived in. It seemed strange to fight so desperately over a useless heap of dead machine and metal but there wasn’t any other utopia left in this world. This was home, no matter how the sun refused to rise or set on it. Thankfully his troops seemed to feel the same. If hopelessness were to find it’s foothold on the edges of their sanity this battle would be over. Without the technology they’d grown to rely on it was difficult to extend intelligence of their mission through the widespread factions, and it was in sight of that when Sazh prayed that their good will would hold.

Dahj was a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak existence. Sazh was certain the boy was not blind enough to live on unaffected, and yet he never had to answer the really difficult questions. Dahj would play and smile when it was safe and hide without a word when he was told. It was the sacred and implicit contract between parent and child.

Noel was in the streets, deep inside the swarms of chaos’ creatures. With one hand Sazh rubbed Dahj’s head comfortingly while the other fed slugs into an empty cylinder with cat-quickness.

“Gonna be alright,” he promised. It was a common mantra -one that hadn’t yet proved to be untrue. “Get yourself to Serah, alright?”

Dahj nodded with all the firm composure of just another soldier and slipped into the shadows without fumbling. With a nod of his own one of Sazh’s men dispatched to follow him. There would be other guards outside of Hope’s complex; it was the safest place to be. The beasts still hadn’t managed to infiltrate that far.

The cylinder span with a sharp whir then clicked into place, “Time to go!”

The party embarked in a cacophony of heavy booting on terraced ground. It wasn’t long before they were in sight of the swarm and the dark figure that cut through their midst. Sazh rang one shot off over his head and emptied the rest of the barrel into the masses. The other gunmen followed suit and the foot soldiers ran in with swords glinting.

“Hey kid!” He hailed.

“-Sazh!” came the quick, breathless reply, and then, “Got a surprise for you!”

An impact and ensuing sound wave tore through the crowd, it ripped discord through the short dog-like beasts and flung their stunned bodies high. At their centre the shoulders of a sizeable man cloaked in a dusty brown came into view. He straightened and knuckles popped.

Sazh couldn’t stop the grin that split across his face.

“Well I’ll be.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Snow called by way of greeting. In next to no time, the surviving dogs had scrambled back to their feet. They skirmished with the lesser-skilled men and gave the three of them a small berth. Bigger things with more teeth were already materializing from the darkness they had cleared. Sazh reloaded his guns.

“What time do you call this?!” bullets sang, punching creatures out of the sky.

“It’s only a hunch but I’m going to say ‘ _the Future_?’” Snow slammed a fist into a foe moving to flank the gunmen and it landed to thrash spasmodically far behind them. Sazh had trouble containing his laughter.

“Still a smartass I see!”

“No time for  
reminiscing,” Noel admonished, peeling back into the throng with his broadsword spinning. He threaded quick-fire attacks through the rising shadows in an attempt to disperse it.

Snow was bearing down on the smaller beasts. As the chaos materialized the creatures resembled the gorgon faces that once roamed the Steppe, revealing primordially dog-like temperament and muzzles full of teeth, but as their retaliation intensified some continued to develop. Before he had departed, Hope had kept faithful in logging their variations. They’d seen enemies that had gained the sinewy humanoid limbs of the c’eith, while others seemed to possess the keen yellow eyes of the lobo wolves and the sharp acumen of the daemon genus. The worst yet were the kind the sprouted wings and ascended to attack the earthbound humans from above. The perpetual night had already rendered their guns inefficient, and ammunition was growing sparse. It seemed that they were still in Lady Luck’s favour when these episodes remained sporadic and few.

Noel detached himself from the bulk of the party, aiming to strike some of the larger beasts beyond their front line. A bullet went ringing off in the distance far to his left.

“-Whoa kid,” Sazh shouted, throwing an arm and the signal out to his gunmen to redirect their aim. It was unlike Noel to stray into their firing zone; too many of their men were inexperienced. He shot a nearby gorgon and finished it off with a heavy kick to its torso; the bone collapsed inward and the creature fell to pieces, disintegrating into the darkness from whence it came.

Snow was shouting, and that was when he saw it- the shape looming over Noel’s fearless silhouette.

* * *

 Great arms spread wide in the dark, lifting a hulking body from the nothingness.

“-Noel! Look out!”

He’d leapt backward just in time. Heavy claws hewn from alien metal, far thicker than any blade present on the battle field, raked across solid asphalt as though it were sand. Deep scars ran vertical from where Noel landed before the claws flashed again, slicing the air and leaving him winded by the sheer expulsion of force. They rendered the lifeless shapes of nearby street lamps into unrecognizable mulch. Though the creature had no mouth, the jawbone still managed to open tight under mottled skin and release a chilling howl.

Sazh called out for him again, beckoning him back, and without looking Noel knew that Snow would be racing towards him. It was a matter of quick calculation. The claws were swift but the weighty body slowed the rest of its movement significantly. The stout legs clomped, and the thick waist hardly turned. He darted again, throwing his broadsword out like a shield, and slid fleet-footed between the giant’s legs. The creature’s hindquarters were not armoured. He thrust into the air.

Slamming the dagger home inside its sheath, he triggered the broadsword’s transformation with a loose hold of the hilt and in an instant it extended; the wicked yet decorative weave of the blade folding upon itself until the entire weapon had changed. The sword-become-spear was now long enough to grip with both hands and using the momentum of his descent he drove it hard into the waiting backside of the beast. It howled again, this time in agony, and tried to buck him off but Noel stayed, the triangular blade embedded enough to grant him time to find a foothold. With another quick exchange of battle cries the victor was decided; the head of the behemoth-like beast rattling to the ground in a flurry of black dust.

Sazh’s gunmen stood quiet, their firearms lowered and the cacophony of the other chaos beasts receding into the dead silence. One of the soldiers deigned to cheer but his gaiety was not met. Snow stayed his ground, his muscles taught and his guard up.

Noel’s lance collapsed and separated, sword and dagger away in each hand and forming a defensive cross.

The silence swelled until something began to clap, hidden by the gloom. Footfalls, a shadow; the solemn clapping grew closer and the fog rose.

“I’m impressed,” a velvety voice drawled; rich tones dripping with dark amusement, “it seems you’ve already outgrown these little trials...”

The noise ceased and the force of the fog seemed to drown everything out. The aim of the younger gunmen quaked nervously. In an instant their new company swept free of the shadow and drove at Noel. A weapon slammed against his but caught between the cross and Noel’s rivalling strength. The clashing blade bent against his cruelly, forcing Noel’s wrists to strain backwards and grating bright sparks into life. The sparks lit his assailant’s features.

“Caius!” he breathed between clenched teeth.

Snow and Sazh edged closer but Noel barked for them to stand their ground. It wouldn’t do to have their jumpy greenhorns waste precious ammunition. Caius’s lips curled into a smile. He lifted the Bahamut sword and swung low at Noel’s legs. The other guardian leapt backward, stumbled, and raised his broadsword again, just in time to catch another blow. Caius’s eyes flickered strangely as the met again and again, exchanging strike for strike, the smile never changing.

“But how?” Noel managed finally; the words that tore from the back of his throat were rough with emotion, “Why?!”

Snow and Sazh refused to stay put any longer. They rushed forward with confusion barely concealed behind wilful expressions. Caius threw out a hand, flicking his wrist dramatically between turns. At his summon the chaos rose; coloured by dazzling sapphire lights as a flood of meonekton were released into the atmosphere in suffocating waves. Noel and Caius’s standoff remained undisturbed as the beetles, small and large, scattered past them easily to surround his comrades, effectively blocking them from sight. He could only ignore the sound of distant gunfire and unembellished fist impacting flesh.

Noel put his strength behind his dagger, delivering a rapid yet unsuccessful attack that seemed to bounce off Caius’ enormous blade. The eye rooted at its centre of the twisting black metal split open; ruby red and staring.

“These assaults on the city... Was it you all along?” he demanded; bearing down with everything he had. “After all that you’ve done?!”

The smile disappeared; eyes flashing darkly behind the arcing stroke of his sword. With a bright spray of sparks Noel was pushed back. He was unbalanced but quick to collect his defences. Caius however hadn’t moved. The jewelled red Bahamut eye watched him unblinkingly.

It was infuriating. Even at the end of the world Noel could not succeed in surpassing his teacher. Even after his days of endless fighting- that torturous wait-  every move, every trick, every attack was seen through and matched as if he’d given himself away in the mere act of breathing.

“We are enjoying our new world, Noel.” Caius replied at length, all too gently, “A glorious haven of infinite possibility and freedom.”

Noel felt something snap. He tightened his grip on his weapons until it hurt.

“This is how you enjoy your freedom? This is the world you were seeking?! This world is dead Caius! And I- _you_ \- did this!”

He leapt, turning his short sword in his palm until he was streamlined. He remembered the feeling of magic; raw energy that would course through his body and manifest at his will. But just like his memories when he’d first met Serah the method was jumbled and lost to him. Instead he had only instinct, and instinct drove his blade upwards in a hasty attempt to free Caius of his sword arm.

The manoeuvre was late.

Caius turned, throwing him aside as the huge weapon glanced across Noel’s vision, shattering it in an explosion of red. Hot blood coursed down the side of his face from a graze at his temple that was seemingly affectionate for all the damage it could have done. He landed upright but scraping through the dust. He wiped his eye clear with the back of one hand, glaring.

The older man cast him a glance that was akin to pity, or something deeper buried like regret, “You still refuse to see past your own reality. Not even now that you are unbound by the rules and circumstance that have chained you.”

Noel roared and charged towards him. He bounced off harmlessly but struck again. Each swing clattered off of Caius’s formidable guard but forced him to step back all the same.

“What do you know about my reality?! My whole life has been a battle against time!”

“-The time that took Yeul,” he lunged.

 “The time that became twisted,” he feinted.

 “The time that took _everyone_!” He heaved and slashed and the Bahamut sword went spinning. Their deadlock had become a reproduction of the very same moment back in Valhalla: dagger to heart and heart to dagger. Noel’s breath rattled heavily in his chest while Caius was still.

“You might have been blessed and cursed with your role as guardian but I only have this one life and I’m going to fight for it!”

Caius’s lips curled into the cavalier smile again.

“Predictable Noel,” he hummed, “then I have some parting words that should be of use to you.”

The distant volley of bullets in the cacophony of battle became clearer. The meonekton swarmed at their feet while the fog lifted. Caius drew closer and closer until the tip of the dagger disappeared inside his chest.

Noel grunted, and tried to pull away, the fierce desire to escape abruptly gripping his ribcage like a tightening vice. But Caius held him still, the entry wound where the blade should have drawn blood merely seeped with dusky particles and smoke. He stepped closer again until the hilt touched his chest plate. The sickening similitude to the memory he wished to keep buried made Noel’s stomach turn.

Caius’ whisper was disgustingly kind, “Yeul is in Valhalla. She’s waiting for your _goddess_ to awaken.”

Noel froze. The mere mention of Yeul alive again made his blood run cold. And here was Caius, her sole protector, seeming to relish in that truth. There were simply too many unanswered questions and one terrible revelation. Caius held the trump card.

“You’re friend will not reach her in time.”

The body of ancient Bahamut and man dissipated in a cloud of dust, releasing its gruesome hold on the dagger as bullets rained from the sky.

* * *

“So this Yeul person is after Light?” Snow surmised. He was tearing bread between his fingers and taking small disinterested bites, as though the process of eating was more a necessity than a pleasure.

“I don’t know,” Noel confessed.

Sazh muttered something about being old under his breath while passing Dahj a bowl colourful cubes that at once resembled fresh diced fruit but were far less rare- most likely a processed treat. After he’d ruffled his son’s bushy head of hair and sent him on his way, he crossed his arms; turning business-like. “Judging by whats’is-face though, chances point to yes.”

“Caius,” Noel interjected swiftly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sazh cast him a weary smile. His eyebrows were furrowed with sad irony.

Snow picked up the hint, “We have to stop them- both of them.”

“Hope’s already in Valhalla,” the silence descended as Noel spoke, “I’m sure he can handle Yeul for a while- at least buy us enough time to form a plan.”

“And our plan would be…”

Sazh wrapped his hand around his chin and stroked, while Snow crossed his arms without any real sense of thoughtfulness. Noel clenched his jaw until the stiffness in his face began to ache.

“Don’t everyone speak up at once now,” a new voice chided. The tone while alluring held great command and in an instant every head snapped up to meet it. The doorway to the crystal room shadowed two figures, one tall and muscular, and the other slimmer and more shapely.

Sazh looked like his eyes were about to drop out of his skull. “Damn you all to hell, I can’t handle this many surprises in one day!” In a rush of air Snow had left Noel’s side and scooped both of the women into a crushing bear hug that nearly lifted them off their feet. The shorter one had a giggle that tinkled like a bell.

“-How is this possible!”

“Snow, you’re hurting me!”

“-Whoa there big guy.”

Noel had already suspected who the women were. He’d spent enough time at their sides that he would know them almost anywhere, even if he hadn’t once glimpsed at the old prophecies- Yun Fang and Dia Vanille of Ancient Oerba. But while their appearance reckoned importance his feet were already moving. He was breathing heavily by the time he reached the crystal- or what was left of it.

Dust, bright and sparkling, pooled throughout the room. The crystal flowers that had once hung from every crook had all but vanished. Dahj’s toys were covered in a fine layer that glittered like morning dew.  For one terrifying moment Noel’s heart had refused to beat until he’d spun on his heel to see her lain delicately upon the sofa, her hair tumbling over the edge in a soft roll.

Dia Vanille came to his side first, a light hand on his arm.

“It’s okay. She’s still sleeping.”

Though they’d never formally met the hand was carefully affectionate. He checked her eyes but there was only compassion. He looked back to Serah but she hadn’t fluttered so much as an eyelash.

 “Sleeping,” he affirmed like a prayer.

Yun Fang stood beside Snow, whose fists once again hung limply at his sides. “When you’re ready you should probably sit down.

-Serah left us with a message.”

* * *

Hope was not alone.

The rough edge of a crumbling battlement bit into his thigh as he stumbled. Myriad walkways were built and broken to fortify such a stronghold, and thick cloud concealed the true path. Every turn he took deeper into the city drove another splinter into his sense of direction until finally he was lost, open to the voices as the panic widened.

- _Hope Estheim_

Lightning’s blade in his pocket offered little solace. He’d grit his teeth so hard for so long that his jaw had begun to ache, and the pressure behind his eyes had the makings of a formidable migraine. His vision swam without warning, his head turning fuzzy. His ears were full of sound, the voices calling for him together in a cacophony that spilled boiling and hissing from behind the lid of his barely contained rationality.

_HopeHopeHopeHopeEsthiem_

To make matters worse there was one voice that was clearer than the rest.

“- Oh Hope, _my_ Hope,” it whispered. Close enough to his back to cause him to turn abruptly. His heel rolled over a loose stone and he fell backward, hard into a patch of roughened dead weed. The affectionate voice had no visible form except a thickening murkiness to the cloud and yet he swore he could see…

Cool jade eyes so much like his own, feathered hair that framed gently sloping cheekbones, and that hint of a dimple that only became visible went she _really_ smiled.

“Come here, Hope,” she sighed longingly.

Hope’s breath hitched, and tears stung at his eyes. Valhalla closed in around him and the figure until the rest of the world was an oppressing blur. All of his words seemed to be stolen, and his voice was sealed. Instead he reached for her in supplication.

_Mother…_

The creature shifted, shimmering until the glamour dropped, dark eye sockets grew like blots of paint on fresh paper and a mouth tore open wailing.

Hope felt a cry pulled from him as a pale hand crept into his vision. It split the mother-creature in two as it commanded his focus with its whiteness. The voices died down, forced back into the recesses of the fog.

On the end of the hand was a girl.

“Hope Estheim,” she addressed him, rending him momentarily stunned by return of silence and the softness of her voice. He found he could speak again and the headache behind his eyes had eased.

“Yes?” he answered tentatively, feeling desperately as though he should know her.

Her dark eyes flashed as she bent her hand closer toward him and bade him to take it.  

“I’ve come to lead you to Lightning.”

* * *

**FINUS (?)**


End file.
